


Pancakes

by Army C (arh581958)



Series: #GallavichWeek [15]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Ass-ream, Big Ian reaps the benefits of Little Ian asking Fiona how to teach him pancakes, Bottom!Mickey, Couch Sex, Day 1 - Firsts, GW2017B, Gallavich Week, Gay Sex, I'm High AF, M/M, Naked Sex, Origin Story, Pancakes, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Smut, Started Sweet Ends in Smut, Top!Ian, canon-compliant-ish, late entry, mainly from pre-Season 1, really explicit sex, then AU after season 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-20 01:30:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12422241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arh581958/pseuds/Army%20C
Summary: Big Ian reaps the benefits of Little Ian asking Fiona how to cook pancakes. It starts out sweet and innocent but ends dripping with sin.





	Pancakes

**Author's Note:**

> I must confess; at the moment I am posting this story, Snoop Doug's song "Because I got high" is playing my head. Dan da-da-da dan da-da dandan dan dn. I forgot that I wanted to do GallavichWeek2017B until a few days ago. I had to look through tumblr to find the actual challenges. 
> 
> Anyway, I've been trying to write this for a while but I've a dry spell. I decided that I wanted to try making marijuana-laced milk. So, I did. You all now shall taste its fruits! 
> 
> Not Beta-read. OBVIOUSLY.

“Pancakes,” Ian tells Fiona one day, nonchalant as can be. “Can you teach me how to make pancakes?” He asks, head tilted slightly to the side. The Gallagher kids—yes, they’re still kids at this point—are scattered around the kitchen table for breakfast; Lip’s bleary-eyed over a puddle of milk and cereal, Debbie’s munching on half a banana muffin, and fifteen-year-old Fiona’s balancing little Carl on her hip.

“I’m sorry. What?” Fiona asks, gob-smacked. Carl chooses that moment to go for Debbie’s hair and threatens their balance. Fiona rights herself just in time. “Carl!” She chastise the baby, “Hair isn’t food. Food is food. Urgh! Stop trying to eat Debbie’s hair—please!”

It’s Ian to the rescue. “Aww, Carl, come here.”

He shoves the last bite of toast in his mouth. Butter crusts along the corners of his mouths. It makes him look like pale-faced freckled chipmunk. His red curly locks stand up like stands of fire. His butter-covered fingers reach out for his baby brother.

Carl’s all too happy go. His fingers tangle in Ian’s hair at first opportunity.

“Oh!” Ian gasps when the toddler tugs tightly. He chuckles. “You like my hair don’t you, Carl? You can’t pull my hair. It’ll be gone.”

“Might be ‘cause it look like someone set it on fire,” Lip quips with a snort. He isn’t any more awake than he was two minutes ago. The soggy floats lazily in his milk, taunting him.

Fiona smacks him on the head, rolling her eyes. “Don’t be such an ass, _Phillip_. At least Ian offered to help me instead of staring at my food like a zombie!” Then, to Ian, she says, “Thanks, Ian. I still can’t believe you’re this idiot’s brother. It’s like you got all the niceness genes in the family!”

Ian ducks his head with a blush. His freckles brighten up. “Thanks, Fi… so, uhm, will you? Will you teach me how to make pancakes?”

Fiona smiles sweetly. “Sure, honey. Why don’t you pass Carl to Lip and we’ll make some right now?”

“Urgh, no.” Lip groans, forehead planting flat on the tabletop. “Not babies. I already helped with two babies! It’s Ian’s turn to be the big brother.”

“Oh, sush!” Fiona said with a huff. “Look at who’s talking, little man. Don’t forget that I also wiped your diapered-ass.”

Debbie and Ian snort back their laugher.

Lip’s visibly red when he takes Carl, grumbling. “S’not my fault you’re the oldest.”

“Damn right,” says Fiona, victorious. “It’s not my fault Monica dropped you on the head when you were a baby. Now, quit your whining and feed the baby.” This time, Lip’s got no choice but to silently comply. She then beckons to seven-year-old Ian. “Come on then, Ian. I’ll teach you how to make’m from scratch. Sound good?”

Ian’s crooked pearly whites outshine the morning sun, despite one tooth missing tooth.

***

“There,” Mickey pants, “there.”

He’s bare ass hangs off the back of the couch. It’s a tall-ass mother fucking couch. He tiptoes, fisted-hands pushing down the cushions. His pinked-chest pants and quivers. A nicked tooth bites onto his lower lip. Sweat drips down his chin. His brows keep furrowing. Sweat glisten from his forehead. Hairs sticking to his skin as he looks up, head braced against Ian’s shoulder.

Ian clings to Mickey. Milky white skin to pale tanned. His nose tucked against short black strands. Freckles darken on his cheeks. Lip’s dance behind Mickey’s ear. A sharp jaw pressed on strong cheek. His throat bobs. His chest is flat on Mickey’s back. Ass-cheeks pulsing with each powerful thrust. There’s a _shlick-shlock_ with every slide where he pulls out and pushes in.

Mickey’s hole pulses. With a vacuum, greedily Ian’s cock in.

Ian groans above him, “Mickey, so fucking tight. Mick, s’good.” That’s how you know he’s beyond turned-on; when the southside accent starts to be noticeable.

“Urgh,” Mickey groans, mouth hanging as his arms collapse underneath him.

They fall forward onto the couch, and slide down. They don’t stop until Mickey’s hand are on the floor, half-hanging-on and the other half-hanging-off the edge of it. Knees pressed onto the couch cushion together. Ian’s much longer legs bracket Mickey’s, both suck in an awkward plank. The actions makes Mickey’s face opens into a choked-out moan because it drives a _zing_ of pleasure that travels to his neck up from his tailbone—to the place where they’re connected. There’s buzzing out of their skins.

Ian tenses when Mickey tightens around him. His knees convulse. He shudders up to his shoulders then down their arms until it reaches the tips of their intertwined fingers.

“Mickey,” Ian gasps out his lover’s name as they come together. He shudders through all the after-shocks. He lowers his head to press down between Mickey’s sweaty shoulder blades, breathing hard. His pale tongue darts out lazily to stroke the damp knob of Mickey’s spine. It takes salty on his tongue. His tongue is buzzing. Saliva floods to his mouth. It falls to Mickey’s skin and he follows it down, breath foggy from the heat between them.

They’re both sweating like pigs. It takes a few more moments of heaving breathing then they finally slink down to the floor. They collapse in a tangle of limbs. Ian curls around Mickey like an octopus, long gangly limbs slung over Mickey’s body. They stay like that for what feels like the longest second of their lives. It was the beefiest glimpse of another intangible world where they were only two souls folding together into a single existence.

It overflows.

Their essence pouring out. It coats their worldly thighs with every bounce—slowly pouring until it feels like both their energies have drained. It feels like an entire eternity passed in a brief second. The one who first breaks away from the spell is Ian.

Ian blinks slowlys, first cross-eyed and then his vision clears. He sees Mickey’s resting face—crease-less brow, lax eyes, the slightest movements of his nose, swollen rosy-red, mouth hanging open, and a pink tongue peeking out. It calls to Ian.

Their mouths meet in the center. The sweetest kiss is shared between them.

Mickey tastes divine—like cigarettes, and beer, and snicker bars.

And, when they gradually pull away. Mickey’s stomach grumbles softy.

Ian chuckles, and kisses Mickey on the nose.

“I’ll make us breakfast,” he says, smiling to himself because he knows what the other will answer. He playfully noses at the skin behind Mickey’s ear, where he knows it tickles his boyfriend, “What do you want to eat?”

Mickey bites his lip to fight the bourgeoning smile, and says “Pancakes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Silently, in my head, I challenged myself to make the story start and end wit the word "pancake". I think I did good.   
> ***  
> Please be nice~ One of the reasons why I love writing for this fandom is because of the feedback that I get. It doesn't have to be long or inspiring. I'm constantly trying to improve how I write—be it grammar, plot, or characters. I'd appreciate it. :) 
> 
> ***  
>  **If you have a prompt or an idea, you can[INSPIRE ME](http://arh581958.tumblr.com/submit) on tumblr. Or [TALK TO ME](http://arh581958.tumblr.com/ask)~**
> 
>  
> 
> **As always, **kudos/comments/bookmarks** are all appreciated by this author. I take comments as extra-kudos and I _do_ read the bookmark tags (some are really fun).**


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